


Traditions

by talesoffangirl



Series: Brothers AU [1]
Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BigBrother!Asch, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I mean plot is kind of there if you squint really hard, LittleBrother!Luke, Mindless Fluff, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 20:01:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6253951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talesoffangirl/pseuds/talesoffangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In between claps of thunder, his bedroom was almost eerily silent. It was during one of these moments that his door opened. He could hear the soft footsteps on the plush carpet of his room behind him. He turned from his spot on the window seat, glancing over to see the expected little red-haired boy, a deer caught in headlights. </p>
<p>"You're seven years old, Luke. Too old to still be scared of thunderstorms."</p>
<p>____<br/>A Canon Divergence/Modern AU featuring big brother Asch and little brother Luke</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traditions

**Author's Note:**

> A little something for Lorelei Day, considering I missed out on the festivities last year. So of course, my contribution is mass amounts of AU fluff. You guys know how it goes.
> 
> In this story, Asch and Luke are their respective ages of 17 and 7. Because I live for big brother Asch.

Another great clash of blue light shook the shutters lining his window. They clattered and clanked against the wind, the gusts so strong that Asch was mildly surprised they hadn’t been torn clean off. The edge of a particular bellow of air caught the open window and threatened to fling it outward. He reached for and grabbed the pane idly. His hand was immediately bombarded with raindrops, the droplets becoming pin pricks of cold along his skin.

The wind roared again, and flicked dots of water onto his cheeks. More creaking and cranking, and then, seemingly satisfied with its latest assault, the turbulent air calmed once more. After waiting for a minute or two to make sure no sneak attacks came, Asch let the window go and wiped his hand on his nightshirt.

He loved storms. His bedroom was high enough to offer an incredible view of the city below, and above it, a vast stretch of sky. He could see it all, from the bright blue and white of day to the darkening pinks and oranges of sunset, fluffy puffs of clouds to twinkling spots of stars. Tonight, the skyline was pitch black and randomly lit up with bolts of purple and blue lightning. If Asch’s gaze was lined up correctly, he could see the shape of the bolt for those quick few seconds it appeared. It was quite the sight. He’d seen a handful of them so far. Three, maybe four, five if that one he’d just barely caught counted.

In between claps of thunder, his bedroom was almost eerily silent. It was during one of these moments that his door opened, creaking on its poorly oiled hinges – purposely poorly oiled; he liked to be aware of when someone was entering – or trying to enter – his room.

“Asch?”

The voice was quiet with uncertainty, and if Asch strained his ears, he could hear the soft footsteps on the plush carpet of his room behind him. He turned from his spot on the window seat, glancing over to see the expected little red-haired boy, clutching a pillow to his chest over which a pair of wide, frightened emerald eyes stared back at him. As their gazes met, the boy stopped in his tracks, a deer caught in headlights.

“For a minute there, I actually thought you were going to tough this one out,” Asch said, not unkind, but not exactly compassionate either. His visitor winced and pressed his chin into the top of his pillow, eyes dropping to the floor in guilt.

“I tried, Asch, I promise I really tried this time! But…” The other’s lip wobbled. “But it’s so loud! And it makes my room shake! And what if it makes the power go off again and my nightlight goes out and I can’t—!” His sentence abruptly stopped as the bedroom once again glowed blue. The child’s eyes widened, so much so that Asch could picture them popping clear out of his head. He shrank down, as if his pillow could swallow him up and protect him, as he braced himself for what he knew was coming next.

Seconds later, the boom came and rattled the shutters once more. Gusts of wind struck next, and Asch all but carelessly stuck his hand back out to catch the swinging window. Despite anticipating the sound, the boy still jumped out of his skin as it reverberated through the walls. Without thinking, he took off running, jumping and landing squarely in Asch’s lap.

Asch had expected it, however, and had moved his arm out of the way to give the child an opening to launch himself up onto the seat – and onto Asch himself. Once the quivering bundle cleared the ground, he shifted his arm back to wrap around the small body, preventing him from toppling over and keeping him in place. “Honestly,” the redhead said off-handedly, “you’re seven years old, Luke. Too old to still be scared of thunderstorms.”

Luke only whimpered, curling his little frame around his pillow and tucking himself into his brother’s chest. He was shaking like a leaf, and while fear and adrenaline were definitely causes of that, Asch was pretty sure he was also cold. The open window had allowed the cool night air to filter into the room, and Luke was only wearing a pair of thin white pajamas. Not to mention, Asch had never paid much mind in keeping his bedroom a moderate temperature; he didn’t mind the cold. But he knew Luke did, and so he made sure the wind had died for the moment before pulling the window shut.

As he was wiping his hand off, on the back of his thigh this time, the boy in his lap feebly mumbled, “I’m sorry, Asch…”

“At least you didn’t wake me up this time.” Luke hadn’t woken him up the previous time either. Nor had he the time before that. It was an unspoken agreement between them, a tradition that they didn’t even realize they had set in place; every night there was a storm, Asch sat lying in wait for his younger brother to come creeping into his room. And somehow, they both knew he would continue to do so until, one night, Luke wouldn’t come in. That night wasn’t tonight.

They watched as rivulets of water streamed down the glass of the window, listened as the vehement wind once again tried – and once again failed – to rip the window away. Luke was still, curled up between Asch’s legs with his upper body conformed against the plush of his pillow. He was mesmerized by the miniscule rivers slipping and sliding before his eyes; it was pretty, really. He could understand why Asch liked to watch the rain so much.

Blue light flashed across his vision, cruelly tearing him from his reverie. The child slammed his eyes shut and pressed himself as deep into his pillow as his body would allow. The boom came moments later, rumbling through the walls. Luke whimpered feebly, curling against his brother’s chest. Asch didn’t move.

Another, although smaller, boom rattled its way into his eardrums, and then the pitter-patter of raindrops returned. Along with it came the soothing sound of his big brother’s voice. “What is it about storms that scare you so much?”

Luke whimpered, “It’s too loud! It’s loud and scary! Like… Like a…” he racked his brain for an analogy, “…like a big mean giant! The ones from the stories you tell me! And it’s right outside so it’s even worse!”

“A loud, scary, big mean giant, huh?” Asch parroted, and a ghost of a smile touched the corner of his mouth. “I see.” He stared out the window, eyes sifting through the black mass overhead. “…Luke, c’mere.” His brother’s head lifted, and Asch guided him to his knees so he was eye-level with the window. “Watch the sky, real close, okay?”

“Why?”

“Watch and you’ll find out.” Luke obeyed and trained his gaze on the darkness, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he fought to keep his focus on what lay outside the window and not upon it. Asch lifted his hands and covered Luke’s ears. Without thinking, his brother lifted his own hands to cover the ones holding his head.

They had to wait a few minutes, but soon the blue light came again, slashing through the black of the sky. The thunderous clap followed, as always, and while Luke’s small frame still shook with fear, he was more concerned with something else.

“What was that?!” Luke tried to scramble up further and press his nose to the chilled glass; Asch grabbed him by the back of his collar and dragged him back onto his lap. “Asch, did you see that?!”

“That was the lightning,” the older redhead offered. “You know that.”

Luke shook his head, the red strands that curled over his forehead bouncing wildly. “No! You said lightning was the blue stuff! That was different! It was like, purple and white and it was really bright and it had a funny shape!”

“A lightning bolt.” Asch reached up and traced the shape on the window pane with his pointer finger. “That’s where lightning comes from. It’s like a lamp; you turn it on and the light goes on too.”

“You never told me that!”

“You never asked. You were too busy being scared.” Luke pouted and bent down to hide his face in his arms, but his brother nudged him insistently until his head came back up. “You want to know something else about lightning? It’s really hot. So hot that when it shoots through the sky, it heats the air around it. But lightning is also fast, and the heated air doesn’t have anywhere to go. So, the air pops.”

“Pops?” Luke’s eyes were wide, hanging off his brother’s every word like he always did when Asch told him things. Asch was the smartest person in the world; he knew everything, had all the answers. Luke hoped he could be as smart as Asch someday.

“Pops. Like when we make popcorn.”

The child’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh! So, the air is kinda like the kernels, and when it gets hot they start popping open so you can get the popcorn!” Asch nodded. “So then, that noise – the thunder, that’s the popcorn?”

“Yes, exactly.” The older redhead patted the younger’s head in approval. “Making popcorn isn’t exactly quiet either, is it?”

“No, it’s kinda loud. That’s why you say we can’t make it late at night, because Mother and Father might hear and get mad.”

Again, Asch nodded. “So, if thunder is like popcorn, it makes sense that it’s so loud, huh?” Luke tipped his head from side to side a few times.

“…Yeah, I guess so.” He made a face. “But it’s still loud!”

“It is. But it’s not exactly a big mean giant.”

Luke chewed on his bottom lip, looking back out the window, and eventually offering a shrug. “I guess it’s not.” He turned back to the older boy. “But does it have to be loud and scary?” Asch smiled.

“That can’t be helped.”

They fell silent, returning to looking out the window. Rain still pelted the glass, and the wind still fought tooth and nail against the window. But the sky remained dark and quiet.

“Is it over?”

“I don’t know. It might just be slowing down, and it’ll start up again in a while.” He freed the wispy strands of hair that had tucked themselves under Luke’s collar. “But guess what I do know?” Immediately, the child’s emerald gaze swung to meet his, and Asch gave him a pointed look. “It’s late, hours past your bedtime, and you should be _asleep_.” The pout he’d been expecting formed on Luke’s lips.

“Aw, but Asch—!” The whine faded as Asch’s eyebrow rose. Luke ducked his head and puffed his cheeks. “…But what if the thunder starts popping again?”

Asch didn’t bother correcting him; Luke was trying, in any case. “It’ll be just like it was before when it popped, and you’ll be fine.”

“Can I sleep with you?”

“Luke.”

“Please, Asch? I promise I won’t kick! And I’ll go right to sleep, really!” Luke’s expression switched over to that of a hurt puppy. “Please?”

Just like always. Asch had expected nothing less, and he knew Luke hadn’t either. Another part of the tradition they always seemed to follow.

“You’re going straight to sleep, understand? No talking, no asking questions, and no getting up unless you think you’re going to have an accident.”

Luke launched himself at his brother, his arms going around his neck; his fingers caught in the long strands of Asch’s hair in the process. “I’ll be good, Asch! Promise!”

“You have too much energy for someone who needs to go to sleep,” the older redhead chimed, nudging his brother away. “Now c’mon. Bed.” Luke picked up his pillow, clutching it to his chest as he scampered off the window seat and towards the large bed across the room. Asch cast a final gaze towards the window, following a drip of water down to the bottom edge of the window before turning away.

Luke knew the drill by this point, and had already moved the pillow already at the head of the bed over and burrowed himself beneath the covers. He waited patiently as Asch slid in himself, waited for his older brother to lie down and get comfortable before scooting closer. Asch settled an arm around the small body beside him, allowing the boy to snuggle against him, a little bundle of warmth at his side. Despite his liveliness just minutes earlier, Luke’s eyes fluttered sleepily and he yawned. Asch tugged the blanket up and made sure it tucked beneath his chin.

“…Asch?”

“Hmm?”

“Storms… I guess they aren’t too scary.”

“You think so?”

“Uh huh… I mean, it’s just popcorn, right?”

Asch chuckled under his breath. “Yeah. Just like popcorn.”

Satisfied with his reasoning, Luke let his eyes fall shut. Minutes passed, and his breathing slowed, and his grip on the sheets covering his frame loosened. Asch watched him for a long, silent time, then dipped his head and pressed a small kiss to the top of his little brother’s head, bringing their night of tradition to a close, just like always.


End file.
